The Second Age
by Nathan Fraust
Summary: *WARNING: GRAPHIC SCENES* *Inspired by 2-1, by Imogen Heap, Carnival of Rust, by Poets of the Fall, etc.* Post-inFAMOUS 2 Evil Ending: The Beast has cured nearly all of the plague, and humanity is close to extinction. When he awakens Delsin Rowe's latent Conduit abilities, a rebellion ignites that will change the future of both human and Conduits forever.
1. I: Conduits

I: Conduits

"We've got inco-!"

The soldier's cry was cut short as the barrel of a tank tore his head off, blood fountaining in spurts. His four comrades froze, but only for a second, snapping back to attention as a blast of lightning struck the Needle in the distance, almost in perfect timing with the explosion as the tank crashed into a surface-to-air missile launcher, launching the engineers manning it sky-high.

The squad switched their assault rifles to full auto, and poured round after round into the rapidly expanding wall of metal slugs. They watched in growing fear and resignation, fingers tight on the slick triggers, as their supply of death ran low. Soon, the only things emanating from the gun barrels were the never-ending clicking and the smoke.

The soldiers slowly rose as the air filled with hollow _pings_ from the mass of metal falling in sheets to the wet concrete, punctuated by the sharp _clack_s of the assault rifles dropping. They stood as one, masks hiding the mouth and nose, but not the dead eyes of the hopeless, and waited.

They didn't have to wait long. They saw his eyes first, a light blue glow shining through the dust and mist, then a grin, white as a bone. He took his time, like Aiken said he would, sauntering out of the fog like he had all the time in the world. _Of_ _course he did, _they all mused blankly. _To the victor go the spoils._

His pants appeared next, the left knee jaggedly torn in half, as if someone had taken a pair of scissors while he wasn't looking and half torn, half cut them before he had smashed their skull in, and a pair of battered and shiny-soled parkour shoes. A simple black and white T-shirt over a dark blood-colored long-sleeve, messily tucked in. Tattoos of blood-spattered wolves and horned skulls adorned his forearms, morphing as they traveled up his arms to evil eyes and light green snakes. The five pairs of eyes continued to travel upward, to an ordinary, yet strangely drawing, face: a deep scar on the right side, barely missing the aqua orbs and Joker grin, which disappeared into a disheveled wave of dirt-colored hair, both strange complements to the sheet-white skin of the Demon.

The Demon slowed, eyeing the quartet as his legion filed in behind him. The shuffling slowed as everyone got into position and waited, battle-ready. When silence made its rounds through the ranks, the Demon spoke. "I saw that one of the heads of the Beast seemed wounded beyond recovery—but the fatal wound was healed! The whole world marveled at this miracle and gave allegiance to the Beast. They worshipped the dragon for giving the Beast such power, and they also worshipped the Beast. 'Who is as great as the Beast?' they exclaimed. 'Who is able to fight against him?' " His roaming settled on the second soldier as he said this, and his lips turned up. A silent _ah-a _settled on him, and he strode forward, bullets shifting out of his way as if an invisible wave beckoned them. He stopped in front of the soldier. "What's your name, son?" he whispered, licking his lips.

The soldier's eyes hardened, and he reached up, pulling off the armored helmet. His dark brown eyes stared into the ice-cold flames. "Delsin Rowe, sir," he said, fear shifting into reckless anger. "So, you're Cole McGrath, the old 'Demon of Empire City'." He smirked. "Or should I call you _the Beast_?"

"Call me Cole," the Beast said, smile growing wider. "It's been a while since anyone's had the balls to name me as I was before." He turned to the soldier at Delsin's right. "You're his brother, Reggie, right?"

"Yes, sir," Reggie said, mimicking his younger brother in taking off his mask. "If I may ask, why are you so interested in my brother?"

The Beast feigned surprise. "Oh, I thought he told you." He leaned in close. "Your dear baby brother is a Conduit, or, as a more colloquial term, a Bio-Terrorist."

Reggie's eyes shifted to Delsin's downcast ones for a moment, then returned his gaze. "I don't believe you," he lied.

"Oh, but he is," the Beast reassured him, "and a pretty powerful one at that. I think I can almost guess what his ability is." He turned slightly, and beckoned to the legion. An Asian woman in a pale leather jacket and dark blue blouse marched forward, leading a bald-headed man in tattered prison clothes. Lucy Kuo and Henry Daughtry. The pair stopped in front of the Beast.

"Go on, Hank." the Beast said, motioning to Delsin. "Shake hands."

The man looked at the Beast nervously, then at Kuo, then locked eyes with Delsin and gripped the hand at his side.

:.

Delsin stiffened as Hank grabbed his lightly gloved hand, then the world disappeared in a flash of light, and Hank's life began to flash before his eyes. He could barely comprehend the barrage of images assailing him. He began to see black.

The world suddenly returned in a rush of color. He released Hank's hand and backed away as smoke began to flow across his body. He looked at Reggie, wild-eyed, and then turned to Walker and Stone. They backed away quickly. "No-" Delsin said, thrusting out his hands. A blast of embers shot out of his quickly smoldering gloves and hit the pair full on, blasting them up and back into a row of power lines, in which they sparked and jerked, smoke rising from them, before finally slowing and stopping.

"Reggie-"he said, turning back to his brother, who looked at him with horror. Time slowed as he watched Reggie, the one person he looked up to for guidance and love, raise his Glock and aim it at his own head. "Reg, don't-" he cried.

"I'm so proud of you," Reggie said, sad eyes staring into his brother's fear-streaked own. He pulled the trigger.


	2. II: The Carnival

II: The Carnival

The Beast paced back and forth, half-eyeing the lights of the abandoned boardwalk gleaming in the dying sunset beneath him, trying to keep the voices out.

The legion had left Seattle 3 days earlier, after he had unleashed his power on the population, activating tens of thousands of Conduits.

Small bits of shale and dirt fell off the edge of the cliff, not enough to alert the group of hunters scavenging for supplies in the various restaurants and shops. He paused for a moment, and then resumed his tread. "What have you discovered, Carey?"

Isaiah Carey stepped out of the shadows of the tree-line and kneeled, averting his gaze. "They are animals, my Lord. They drink and fight and curse like the worst rednecks in the Plains. They are of no importance to you."

"And the two among them?" he pressed, eyebrow raised.

"Born _tessararii_, Lord. However-" - Carey winced as the Beast's mouth turned down- "The first man is a bit of a preacher. He leads the group in their evening and morning _salat_, and he seems to be a very devout man."

"Oh? No matter," the Beast said, diverting his full attention to the boardwalk. "No doubt he will be _persuaded_ of my power when I speak to him in person."

:.

Danny Andrews stepped inside the white plastic tent, rang the bell for _salat_, and waited as Mathias, David, and the others filed in. When they all settled down, he bowed his head and body and began: "_Allahu Akbar, Ashadu anna la ilaha illa Allah-"_

As he continued, he sensed a shift in the air as someone entered the tent, but he continued to pray, formulating a question for the newcomer as the words fell from his mouth. Raising his head, he opened his eyes to see a pale-skinned man in a black-and-white T-shirt staring at him. Andrews' mind recoiled in horror, eyes widening. This was the _Marid_, the one who had wreaked so much chaos in the past 36 months. He could feel the power radiating off of him in waves. He cleared his throat, but before he could speak, the _Marid_ whispered: "Where is Allah? Is he here? Is he inside you?"

"Where was he when I lost the love of my life?" he continued, raising his voice so that all could hear. "Hmm? Where was he when I had to kill my brother?"

Andrews remained silent, fear pounding at his heart.

"I'll tell you where he was," the _Marid_ said, eyes narrowing. "He was in the ground, dead. He's been dead for a while, and you know who killed him?" He grinned, an awful gash. "_Me_."

Mathias suddenly rushed him, roaring in rage. Andrews watched, as if in honey, as the _Marid_ calmly unsheathed the katana at his back and slashed at the charging hunter.

The _Marid_ wiped the blackish-red blood from the blade as the head thumped to the ground, then the body. His glowing reddish-purple eyes swept over the frozen mass of doomed souls, stopping briefly on Andrews. His mouth moved, voicing a silent prayer.

The _Marid_ raised his hands, one crimson, one cream, and concentrated, face contorting, becoming a broken and scarred landscape of rock, red lava underneath. He closed his eyes, and let go.

:.

Lucy Kuo waited until she saw the all-too-familiar flash of red on the horizon, then rose and dashed towards it, leaving the sulking, raging mass of Delsin Rowe behind. Her mind was in resigned turmoil. Cole had told her at the very beginning, when they had started out on this journey, he could still hear the voices of the non-Conduits he had killed to save others of their kind. Kuo could only imagine the horror he had felt, knowing that he had been _responsible_ for the deaths of thousands. Oh, he put on a good face in front of the cohorts, but she alone knew the truth, whispered to her night after night, when he awoke in her arms, screaming in agonizing terror. _It would be enough to drive _anyone _mad,_ she mused solemnly.

She reached the boardwalk in minutes, freezing the moist ground into soft frost when she landed. Focusing on the heat she had felt with Cole, Kuo found two bodies, one kneeling, glowing black and crimson, with spots of gold and blue, and the other supine, a reddish black shot with yellow. She ran towards the pair, dashing through the fallen pieces of burnt and rotting wood.

Cole didn't even look up as she entered in a blast of cold, remaining in his kneeling position for a few more minutes. Finally, he stood, turning his head to look at her with bluing violet eyes. "He was… the only one," he said quietly, voice shaking.

Kuo stepped up to him, close enough to feel the quickly dissipating heat that always occurred after he had used his power, and put her left hand on his right shoulder. "I'm so sorry…"

He turned his full body to her, wrapped his arms around her, and lowered his head onto her shoulder as he began to softly weep. Kuo felt the wetness on her skin as the tears struck, then the chill as they froze. She put her other hand on his chin and lifted up his head, watery pools meeting reflective mirrors. They were still for a moment, holding each other's gaze, then Cole bent and kissed her, first on the cheek, softly, then hard on the lips. Kuo closed her eyes, relishing in the moment, the heat. She began to respond, but Cole drew back, a small smile curving his pale, rust-colored lips. "Come on," he whispered, "I have something to show you."

:.

Delsin stared at the hard, rocky ground, jaw working, as he raised his frozen arms for what felt like the thirtieth time in the past half-hour and smashed them down on a jutting piece of shale. He was rewarded with a small crack barely an inch deep, and a burning anger as he vainly repeated the process. He paused for a moment as a mocking voice rang out: "What's the matter, D? I thought you guys could get out of anything."

Delsin turned his head to see Abigail Walker leaning against a pine, a sneer on her face. He sighed, and said, "What do you want, 05174?"

"Not much," she said, shrugging and puffing out her lower lip, blowing a strand of neon pink hair out of her eyes. "Just wondering, what ever happened to Brent? Hmmm?" Her eyes narrowed.

Delsin shuddered and looked away as he remembered the bodies jerking like puppets on the sparking black powerlines. "I didn't mean it," he whispered, almost to himself.

"What was that?" she asked, turning her head and holding her rock-encased arms up to her ear. "You said you 'didn't mean it'? Well, too bad, so sad, you did it anyways. Besides," she continued, lowering her arms, " Brent was still on the needle, right? You don't need to lie, I know he still had withdrawals and hangovers, just like we used to when we were younger." Abigail looked away, towards the shining waters of the bay. A pained expression passed over her face for a moment. "Damnit," she muttered.

"I'm sorry," Delsin said softly. "I lost someone, too."

"Save it, D," she spat.

:.

Kuo gaped, amazed, as she and Cole walked slowly towards the towering carnival sign, marveling that the oranged _Edward A. Paul Memorial_ marquee still stood. She tore her eyes away to see a gleaming carousel directly ahead of the pair. Eyes widening, she looked at Cole questioningly.

He smiled, teeth glinting in the electric light, as he explained: "They had passed through here yesterday, stripped everything to rods. I fixed it up, just for us."

She smiled back, for the first time in forever, happy. "Thank you," she said as she laid her head down on his shoulder.

_8 Hours Later_

Cole stroked Lucy's back gently with his knuckles, gazing at a small, round scar on her right shoulder. She stirred, placing her hand over his. He smiled softly, gave her a quick peck on the neck, and rose from the king-sized bed, watching as she sat up, her hair a mess. "We should get back," he said, pulling on his long-sleeve, then his T-shirt.

"Mmh, 3 more minutes?" she pleaded, grinning. "It's not like the world will end."

He smirked, and crawled onto the bed. "No, I guess not," he murmured as their lips met. They continued for a few more minutes, Kuo giggling as Cole's rough stubble scraped her chin, then Cole stiffened as a stray thought streaked across his mind: _Dammit, how does McGrath expect us to _live_ if we keep hiding in the shadows?! We can take the Raven Guard head-on, Beast or no Beast!_ He recognized the thinker as John Levy, one of the lesser _clinici_ in the legion, and a bit of a rouser.

Kuo noticed the momentary freeze, and asked, "What's wrong?", eyebrows furrowing.

"Levy's acting up again," Cole growled, eyes darkening into purple. He pushed off the bed and reached for his pants.

Sighing in frustration, Kuo swung her legs out of the bedsheets and started to dress. "Y'know, you could just deal with him _later_," she suggested.

"This isn't a game, Kuo," he snapped, swiveling his head to look at her. "I can't just press pause and start over. Believe me, if I was able to, I would have already done it."

"And then what," she questioned, eyes alight with cold anger, jacketed arms crossed over her light blue T-shirt, "you would _abandon_ us? You would abandon _what we have_?!"

"No, Lucy-"

"No, of course not!" she retorted. "You would just try to make things better, better for all of us."

"That's not what-"

"I cannot _believe_ you!" she shouted, eyes shining. "You need to decide _right now_, Cole! Who are you doing this for, me and our kind, or _her_ and her filth?! And don't you dare think I don't know about the _picture_."

Cole froze, shell-shocked and riddled by turmoil. _She knew?_

"Exactly what I thought," she said, conflicted eyes staring at his grief-stained pair. She turned and dashed out the open motel window.

Cole sat down hard on the bed. As the tears began to slip down his nose, the anger rose, a searing wave of black that ran down the length of his body, back up again, and into his arms. Twisting suddenly, he blasted the cherrywood drawer across the room into smoldering splinters, then turned and slashed at the oak rocker. The rocker teetered, as if unsure of its sudden uselessness, then fell forward, legs split across the middle.

Turning back around, he strode forward, kicked the door off its slowly rusting hinges, and leapt out into the open air. Drawing his katana, he stabbed downward, and as the blade, engorged with flames and sparks, slipped into the concrete like soft butter, a wave of crackling energy arose and dashed across the fairgrounds, destroying the bright, shining carnival he had resurrected.

He sagged for a moment, spent. As he was about to push himself back up to his feet, he sensed a maelstrom of emotion a few dozen miles away. Pressing in slowly, he heard one thought, one thought that knocked the wind out of him: _Please, Cole, don't leave us. Don't leave our child._


	3. III: Salted Grounds

III: Salted Grounds

Lucy stepped numbly through the forest, oblivious to the dawn, ignoring the predators and prey which skirted her path. _Why, Cole?_ she cried out, alone in her thoughts. _Why would you do this to us? This is no place for a child,_ especially_ not one of our own making._

Gazing up through filmy eyes, she caught sight of a pinkish-white opening in the thick crush of maples and poplars. Pushing herself to go harder, Lucy scrambled over fallen trunks and stumbled on smooth stones. She reached the light in minutes, breaking through the wooden bars.

Lucy saw that she was on a small headland overlooking Puget Sound; the dilapidated ruins of an old Salish coastal town stretched out before her, extending for miles down the shoreline. Gasping in exhaustion, she bent over, hands on her knees, to catch her breath, then slowly straightened and began to make her way down the cliff face.

:.

The Beast, distracted by thoughts of Kuo and what he had last heard from her, barely heard the flap of his pavilion entrance lift, then fall gently, but he did feel the chill rush of air. Glancing up from the papers strewn about his desk, he saw Mark Slater leaning against a support pillar, gray-brown eyes staring at him blankly. "What is it, Slater?" he asked.

"We've detained Levy, my Lord," Slater said, poker face betraying no stray satisfaction over the custody. "He is waiting for you on the _crux_."

The Beast bowed his head, musing over the matter at hand for a moment. Then he unfolded his legs and rose, thus dismissing Slater from the pavilion. Slater kneeled, then rose and retreated, the Beast following close behind.

The sunlight stung his eyes as he squinted, the _castra_ coming into focus before him. Jagged stone and wood barracks, forced up from the ground by _fabri_ acting on the instructions of their assigned _architecti_, stretched out for tens of thousands of miles, as far as the eye could see. Thousands of Conduit _milites_ clogged the _via praetoria_ and _principalis_, forcing some to resort to flying or teleportation to get to where they needed to go. The Beast heard the faint sounds of yells and screams from the multiple _campi_ surrounding the _castra_'s stone walls as thousands of _equites_, _centurions_, and _milites_ faced off against each other in pairs or groups and sparred. He also faintly sensed thousands of scavengers picking the surrounding woods clean for food and supplies. The only person he didn't sense was Kuo.

Sighing, the Beast trudged after Slater, ignoring the Conduits who stopped and bowed their heads as he passed, dully noticing the parting of the river of lives as Slater forged forward.

Passing the granite fortifications and watchtowers of the _praetoriae portae_, they eventually reached the end of the stream: a large, whispering circle had formed around a barren patch of earth, which, in the center, contained three things: a roughly-shaped human-sized _crux_ made out of orangish-red, rusting iron, and its inhabitant, John Levy, a groaning black, red, and blue lump of a Conduit, whose arms, legs, and chest were colored a pale yellowish-green as his healing powers struggled to stave off the infection and bleeding from the bruises and gashes that streaked across his body, courtesy of the numerous beatings he had received from Jonathan Grey, who stood off to the left, juggling crystalline _tantos_ in his salt-encrusted hands, shifting to alleviate the bulkiness of the pale, blunt calluses he had formed over his knuckles.

The circle fell silent as the Beast and Slater stepped out into view. Grey glanced their way for a brief moment, then fell back into his routine, a smirk on his face, as the white gauntlets which held Levy in place slowly shrank, eliciting an agonizing scream from the latter.

The Beast stared at the sweating, bare-chested traitor for a few seconds, then averted his gaze, lifting a hand and gesturing. Slater bowed, rose and retreated to Grey's side, a small grimace on his face.

The Beast strode forward, drawing his blade, and slashed at Levy's bindings. Severed from his bond to the scarlet _crux_, Levy fell heavily, uttering a short gasp of agonized relief as he landed, and lay still for a moment. Slowly, he rose, steadying, and looked the Beast full in the face. His jaw worked for a moment, then he spat at his former Lord, a black, gooey mass of bloody saliva falling on the Beast's scar.

The Beast reached up and wiped away the slime, then flipped his katana over and thrust it at Levy. "Do this," he said, eyes purpling, "and I will give you a grave more fitting than you deserve."

Levy glared at him for a moment, then reached out and grabbed the _tsuka_. Raising the blade skyward, he uttered a loud cry and drove it down.

:.

Lucy let go of the edge she was grasping and dropped to the ground with a small _umph_. Rising, she ran forward and crouched under a skeletal pair of bushes,careful to not get her jacket caught on a stray branch, and caught sight of the blackened logs of a decomposing longhouse. Breathing as softly as she could, Lucy stepped forward slowly, head whipping back and forth, then ran to the fallen wall and took cover. She was about to break down the crumbling wall when she heard a piercing howl, and froze.

A pair of shining golden eyes appeared in the black, and as the beast menacingly growled at Lucy's wall, a beam of moonlight engulfed it, illuminating the silvery-white snarl of a strange, black-as-coal— Lucy couldn't think of anything else— wolfman. She gasped as the demon suddenly disappeared in a flash of silver light, then whirled around as she heard a bark behind her; extending her open palm, which quickly blackened and began to emanate white mist and frost, Lucy fired blindly. She heard a short yelp, then a cacophony of howls as wolves began to pour out of the surrounding forests. All of them had glowing eyes and matching red snarls. Shivering with fear, Lucy closed her eyes and focused; turning her fear into burning rage, she prepared to release.

A hand suddenly grasped her shoulder and yanked her backwards, through the decaying wall, and hoisted her up into the air. Lucy gasped in terrified amazement as she looked into the cold sapphire eyes of a young, darkly tan-haired young woman. The wolf-woman growled at her for a second, exposing keen, moon-colored fangs, then paused with a short whine. She slowly set Lucy down, and motioned at a chipped black-painted bed frame beside them. Lucy gratefully sat down on the edge, heart thudding in her chest, and eyed the wolf-woman as she slowly finished shifting back into her human skin. "Thank you," she muttered, rubbing her throbbing neck and shoulder, "for not killing me."

"I would've," the woman replied, a scowl on her face, "but I'd rather not be on the Beast's bad side." She motioned towards Lucy's abdomen.

_How-_ Lucy wondered for a moment, before realizing. "Is it-"

"I don't know," the woman interrupted, scowl deepening, "and that's what bothers me. It's like-" she paused, and made a few random gestures in the air- "it's like it's part of the earth, if I can say that. I can't tell if it's one of the Powerless or not."

Lucy grimaced as she heard that word. _Powerless_. _It has to be one of us, _she thought with frantic terror. _It _must_ be_.

"So, you going to let me go back?" she asked.

"One more thing," the woman said. "When you get back, find Delsin Rowe. I need you to deliver a message to him."

"Sure," Lucy said cautiously. "What's the message?"

"Tell him that Esther Ridgeway says hello."

:.

The Beast rocked back on his haunches, exhaling as the streams of pulsating energy dissipated into nothingness, along with the consciousness of their former owner. He stared at his hands for a moment, feeling a crawling sensation in his palms, watching the verdant waves rise and fall into synch with the beat of his heart. Pressing his hand into the blood-soaked earth around Levy's corpse, the Beast released a short burst. For a few moments, nothing happened, then, out of the corner of his eye, the Beast saw a crimson-black droplet rise and wobble towards him, its brethren following suit, until the air was filled with a fine pinkish-red mist. Amid the gasps from the circle, he sensed fear, despair, and strongest of all, a white-hot wave of anger.

He raised his head and looked directly at the red silhouette of Delsin Rowe, standing at the front of the mob. Grinning, the Beast focused and drew the mist into himself, then rose and waltzed over to Rowe. "Welcome to camp," he said, gritty maroon dripping down his chin. Rowe just looked at him with bloodshot eyes, shaking slightly.

Sighing, the Beast half-turned to Grey. "Salt it," he muttered, then turned back the way he entered and marched forward, the circle scattering in his wake. He had done this enough to know the method: Grey would draw out the corpse's salt from the blood, then he would form six eight-foot spears from the crystals and jam them seven feet into the ground, marking off the area as _exsecrabilis_.

The Beast's mind soon strayed to Rowe, and he mused, hand on his chin, as he walked, over the young Conduit. _He surely hates me_, he thought, _but he wouldn't _dare_ challenge me out in the open._ He remembered feeling the agonizing fear that seeped from the former in gushes, then the rage as he found someone to direct it towards: the Beast himself. He recalled the first time they had met, four days ago. Suddenly, the Beast felt a strange stab of something that had nearly faded from him entirely: dread.

**Author's Note: Well, here's Chapter 3. Sorry it took so long, but hey, today's my birthday, so why shouldn't I share my good cheer with you guys? :) Anyways, please, read, review, and enjoy. **

**PS: I may do a slight diversion in Second Son, since, IMO, the story could have been _much_ better, so expect a new chapter in the next month or two, hopefully.**


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